John Hughes Gave Me Unrealistic Expectations of High School
by Disney Ink
Summary: Jasmine spent all of high school in the library and graduated at the top of her class but she never got the high school experience she saw in John Hughes movies. When a virus hits the school computers wiping out every record for every student in her class forcing them to all repeat senior year over the summer, she gets a second chance at the high school experience she always wanted


I got out. Agrabah was in my rearview mirror; I was gone. I left Arizona in a puff of smoke similar to the Road Runner's and I made it all the way Chicago- where I've always wanted to go. Ever since I first saw Ferris Bueller back in grade school, I've wanted to live in Chicago. So, when I started high school, my parents made me a deal; if I was on the honor roll all through high school and graduated early senior year, then we would move to Chicago, regardless if I even got into one of its colleges.

I did. I graduated at the end of the first semester of senior year and even got into UIC-Chicago. So, my family and I packed up and in January moved to Chicago (when I promptly experienced a true frozen hell and almost reconsidered based on the weather alone).

Well, all of us except my older brother, Sinbad, moved to Chicago. He peaked in high school and was somewhat of a legend in that small town, so he stayed behind to be a big fish in a small pond.

But, that wasn't good enough for me; I wanted the 80s teen movie. High school was nothing like those movies for me (probably because I was more of a Diane Court or Cameron Frye without the benefit of a best friend like Ferris Bueller); so, I figured if I moved to Illinois where most of those movies took place, maybe college would be more promising.

Then, five months later, on the eve of graduation for the rest of my class, God played the cruelest trick He could think of. Last week my parents got an email from the principal of Agrabah High School stating that a virus had spread through part of the computer system deleting every single record of every student in my graduating class. Not only that, but all the paper records had gone missing. At first, I didn't understand why they were telling me this and I had tuned them out while they continued to talk about…whatever.

But, it turns out, long story short, only my graduating class had been targeted and technically everything we did in our senior year was basically non-existent and our diplomas were no longer valid. The graduating class of 2014 was being summoned to return to the high school this summer to repeat our senior year and graduate all over again in order to receive credible diplomas. It wasn't mandatory, but strongly recommended.

I didn't want to go back; I had finally made it out after eighteen years of being trapped in the desert quicksand. But, it seems, the more I struggle, the more it drags me under. I had to go back; without my diploma and senior transcripts, I would not be admitted into UIC.

So, here I am: back Agrabah, Arizona. My parents didn't see any reason for them to come back as well, so I'm staying with Sinbad for the summer.

But just being back in this town was not the only thing I was dreading; it's also seeing my classmates. One in particular.

It's interesting the things we say to someone when we think we'll never see them again. Angry, hurtful things that we'll later regret but will never have to face if we, in fact, never see that person again. We'll feel guilty for a moment, but the moment passes and we move on; eventually oblivious to the words that were shot out like rapid fire, the person they were aimed at and the lasting affect it may have had on them. You don't care: it doesn't affect you. That's what you tell yourself, anyway.

It's amazing the lies we can make ourselves believe so we can feel better. That's what I was telling myself while I sat on the edge of the platform at the train station. I slowly kicked my heels back against the concrete. My train had dropped me off at the station half an hour ago, but I wasn't ready to go home. According to the faded schedule hanging in the Plexiglass frame in the train station, I had an hour until the next train arrived.

I stared straight forward at the dirt field across the tracks and raised the barely touched cigarette to my lips. The last time I smoked a cigarette was two years ago when I was sixteen. It was a dreadful habit that I forced myself to break after a couple months, but there was no denying the calm it gave me. The way my hands were sweating and the dread that was building in my stomach one would think I was about to go in front of a jury for a crime I was undoubtedly guilty of, instead of just returning home.

The sun was setting on the horizon, making the sky look like it was on fire. I had to admit it was beautiful and different from the ones in Chicago. The one plus side to being back in the middle of nowhere was being able to see all of the sky without buildings and lights blocking it out. I lied back on the platform, using my backpack as a pillow and looked up at the sky. It was so peaceful, I almost forgot about everything. My eyes closed on their own as I let the heat and colors absorb into me and briefly let my dread rise off me like the heat on the pavement on a summer afternoon.

A shadow fell over me. I opened one eye and looked up at Sinbad. He smirked at me. "Ya know, it's dangerous to fall asleep with a lit cigarette in your hand."

"I wasn't sleeping." I sat up, flicking the cigarette onto to tracks. I took one last look at the sky before getting to my feet and flinging my backpack over my shoulder.

Sinbad picked up my suitcase, then put his arm around me. "It's good to see you, Jasmine."

"You, too," I told him. "I just wish it was under different circumstances."

Sinbad's '67 Impala was the lone car in the parking lot, just as I had been the lone passenger getting off at Agrabah. Not surprising, though. There were very few of us from my class who actually left Agrabah and I'm sure all of their parents sprang for a plane ticket back instead of making them take a train cross country.

The Impala's trunk creaked when Sinbad opened it to throw my suitcase in, but we hardly noticed; it had been doing that since he got the car a few years ago. The car originally belonged to our grandfather who bought it brand new and took better care of it than he did our dad. When he died, he left the car to Sinbad. Sinbad treasured it. He and our grandfather had been really close and would spend hours working on the car together. After he died, though, Sinbad couldn't bring himself to work on the car; he said it was always their thing and it didn't feel right doing it without him. So, instead whenever she needed a tune up or anything he brought her to the one garage in town.

We got in the car, slamming the heavy doors behind us. The leather seats were warm from being out in the sun and I shifted uncomfortably in my shorts. Sinbad, of course, was wearing jeans and the hot leather didn't faze him at all as he sped out of the parking lot.

"I have to take her to get an oil change," Sinbad said. "So, we're gonna just drop her off and walk home from there."

"No," I replied firmly. "No way. Why can't you drop me off first?"

"Oh, come on, Jasmine; it's on the way. What's the big deal?"

"The big deal is that I'm not ready to face Aladdin, yet." Though we were still a few minutes away from the garage, I sank lower in my seat so Aladdin couldn't see me.

Aladdin had been my boyfriend from the beginning of junior year until I graduated and broke up with him. He didn't get the best grades (mostly because he didn't even try) and hadn't applied to a single college. His dad owned the garage and Aladdin's plan was to work there and eventually take it over. But, I was leaving and I wanted no ties to this town that could potentially pull me back. I loved Aladdin but to me it was necessary to sever my ties to him for good; so I may have (okay, definitely) said some pretty awful things and broke his heart the night before I left. Things I regret and play back in my head all the time.

"Jasmine," Sinbad said wearily. "You guys broke up five months ago."

I sank lower in my seat as we approached the garage. "I know."

"He's had a few girlfriends since then."

I looked at him. "He has?"

Sinbad rolled his eyes. "Of course he has. I've seen them hanging around the garage."

"Are you sure they weren't there to see Flynn?" I asked. Flynn Rider was Aladdin's best friend and self-proclaimed ladies' man. The title was warranted, though. Flynn was a hot, rugged bad boy who had all the girls in school falling over themselves trying to get his attention.

Sinbad pulled up in front of the garage and turned off the car. He looked at me with a bored expression. "His life doesn't revolve around you, Jasmine." Without another word, he got out of the car and went inside.

I slowly sat back up and looked around. I didn't see anybody, so I got out of the car and walked around to the trunk of the car to wait for Sinbad. The garage was located at the end of the main street that ran through Agrabah, right across from the diner. There were several cars in the parking lot for dinner and I recognized one as my best friend, John Smith's, parents' Cadillac ELR hybrid. It stuck out like a space ship among old western carriages. I knew John would be inside with his parents; Sunday dinner at the diner was a weekly tradition for them.

The Smiths were Scrooge McDuck rich, but Mr. Smith grew up here in Agrabah and came from nothing. About thirty years ago Mr. Smith and his childhood best friend started a financial consultant company that took off and made them both more money than they knew what to do with. His best friend was my dad.

Yup. My parents are loaded and made me take the train from Chicago to Arizona. And, as I'm sure you can guess, they had a hand in my breaking up with Aladdin. Like most country club parents, they want me to marry "one of our own". Which meant not a poor mechanic. Actually, that meant John. Our moms got pregnant around the same time and when they found out I was a girl and John was a boy, they immediately decided the two of us would end up together. They've been putting that pressure on us since we were old enough to know what marriage was. It's never happened though because we're too much like brother and sister; but that doesn't stop them from making comments and nudging us whenever we're together.

You may be wondering if we have so much money why did we grow up in a small town in the middle of nowhere when we could have lived in Chicago (or New York or even Los Angeles) from the get-go? I asked my parents that same question for years. Their answer: to keep us grounded; which I took in every sense of the word. Our fathers grew up here, so they wanted us to as well so we didn't end up becoming spoiled rich kids. They also rarely took us on vacations or let have us any sort of luxury so we didn't take anything for granted.

So, ya know, lucky us.


End file.
